


Why’d you only call me when you’re high?

by marsboiiii



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Based on an Arctic Monkeys Song, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Smoking, i can’t write a fanfic without smut, i’ll add more as I add more chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29172441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsboiiii/pseuds/marsboiiii
Summary: Based on the song Why’d you only call me when you’re high by Arctic MonkeysGeorge gets a phone call late at night. His best friend, Dream is high. They both say some questionable things.this summary sucks, it’s basically the title of the song
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 2
Kudos: 104





	1. The call

**Author's Note:**

> hello this is a very mini fic um also idk if someone has already done one based on this but I heard the song after a long time and thought it fit well
> 
> hope you enjoy
> 
> (like every other fic, this is based on their online personas)

Bad days happen to everyone, George included. School was stressful, his crappy job at the supermarket was long, and to top it all off, he just learned his landlord was selling his house. How could it get worse, right?

To calm his nerves, most of the time he just laid on his bed and blasted his favorite songs—tonight was no different. He had his spotify playlist on shuffle for a little over an hour; lyrics mindlessly twisting through his head. 

“~ _ Head in the clouds but my gravity’s centered~”  _

Sweater weather has been on his playlist for a couple of months, gradually getting more addictive. 

“~ _ Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours~” _

_ “~You in those little hi-“ _

The next line began, but soon cut off with George’s ringtone, causing him to sit up. He had a special sound for each of his closest friends or family, so he immediately knew who was calling;  _ Dream _ .

He picked up.

“Hello?” George began.

“George~” Dream cooed, sending a shiver down George’s spine, “What are you doing right now?”

He took a deep breath before replying, “Sitting in bed, listening to music.”

“Oh, sorry did I interrupt you?” George could hear Dream walking away from the phone.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. Why are you calling,” A lighter could be heard on the other end, “Are you smoking?”

“Maybeeee.”

“How much have you had already?” George fell back onto his comforter.

Dream giggled, “Man, I don’t even know at this point.”

_ Great.  _ The brit thought to himself, “Okay. So, why’d you call me when you're high?”  _ Why do you only ever call me when you’re high. _

“Just to hear your voice. I’m always horny when I smoke. You know that.”

“Yes. I do,” George could feel a tingling sensation through his hands, “But you’re straight. Go and call a girl or something.”

“No. I want to talk to you. I  _ want  _ you George.” 

“You don’t.”

A couple of seconds passed without a word being spoken.

Dream broke the silence, “Have I ever told you how much I love you, George? How much I long for your touch?”

“No.” George answered.

“Well I do.” Dream took a hit of his blunt.

“No.” George could feel the back of his eyes beginning to burn.

“Yes I do. I’m not just saying it ‘cause I’m high either.”

“You are. You aren’t thinking straight right now.”

“When I think about you, it's never straight, Georgie.”

George began tear up at the thought of Dream  _ actually  _ wanting him. The truth of him being delusional sits behind said thoughts.

George took a while to answer, “Stop.”

“No, George. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I said  _ stop, _ ” Dream stopped that time, “Please. I can’t take this tonight. I have had a shitty day already, I don’t want this right now. You're my, my . . . kryptonite, I guess.”

“Your kryptonite, huh.” Dream giggled again.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you love me too, George?”

“Please. Not now.”

“Why not? Do you not love me?”

“I already said I couldn’t right now.”

“Why not?” Dream repeated, not letting up.

George furrowed his eyebrows. How does he tell him that he is  _ actually  _ in love with his best friend. That he still has these feelings in a completely sober mindset. 

He’s known about his feelings towards Dream for a while now. He has noticed how beautifully his face curved when he smiled, how his eyes lit up when talking about something he likes, and how his tighter shirts gently featured his biceps.

He sighed. 

“I have to go. Bye.” George moved his finger to hover over the ‘end call’ button.

“George, wait-“ He pressed it.

His ringtone picked up again. And again, and again. He took off his headphones, trying to get rid of the noise. He turned to his alarm clock sitting on his nightstand.  _ 12:53,  _ it read. 

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back to reveal a slight coating of grease.  _ I should really take a shower,  _ He thought. And so he did.

He let the steaming water run down his whole body, massaging the soap deeply, trying to ignore his thoughts about his call with Dream. He closed eyes for just a second, letting his consciousness go blank.

  
  


————

  
  


He woke up with pain shooting through his lower spine and neck. As he opened his eyes, the memories of before came rushing back. Hot water pounded down on his face.  _ What time is it?  _ He slowly sat up, wincing at the slight headache. He turned off the water and got out of the tub-portion of his shower. He got dressed slowly and checked his phone.  _ 3:02. _ He was in there for over three hours. He groaned, before noticing the multiple missed calls from ‘Dreamie :)’.

He couldn’t decide if he could go through another conversation with his friend, his best friend in fact. Instead of calling him back, George simply messages him, ‘Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’.

  
  


————

  
  


George’s alarm woke him up properly. Three hours of sleep is a curse for any human, but when George hated caffeine and had his first class in less than a half hour, he thought of it as hell itself. 

He slid a pair of black sweatpants and blue hoodie on, before brushing his teeth and hair. Luckily, he only lived about 10 minutes away from campus, so he didn’t have to rush too much. 

He barely made it to the lecture hall on time. His first class of the day was meteorology. He hated it. He had the oldest professor he had ever seen, and their assignments were never as fun as his professor said they would be. 

Most of the time he would be able to doze off and look up the slides after class, but today the lights were all completely on, and a mysterious woman was standing in the front of the room.  _ Great. A guest speaker. _

Time in class slithered by, slowly withering George’s stamina—if he even had any to begin with. Soon enough his first class was over and his stomach was rumbling. He forgot to eat breakfast before his lecture; which was an hour and a half.

He got some food from a Mcdonald’s that they had on campus and picked out a seat in the corner of their dining hall. He pulled out his computer to begin an essay for a different class.

He had music blasting in his ears to block out the noise of the rest of the people eating around him. The only way he noticed the tall blond standing in front of him, was when two hands were forcefully placed on the table he was at, shaking it.

“Hey! What the fuck man?!” George yelled out, then looked up, shame sneaking it’s way onto his face, “Sorry, Dream.”

“Can we talk?” The American spoke sweetly.

“Um, fuck.”


	2. Not thinking straight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy
> 
> this chapter is kinda Dream’s pov of pretty much the first chapter, the next one will be both of them together so neither Dream’s, nor George’s 
> 
> Slight mention of smut/sexual activities

A knock on the door shook Dream out of his head. 

“Hey, Dream, you coming?” He could hear his friend, Nick, calling for him from outside his small studio apartment.

He pushed himself off of his couch and turned off the tv, glancing at his reflection in the mirror beside his front door. A sleep-deprived college student stared back. _I need to go to bed earlier,_ He thought to himself.

“Yep!” He yelled back as he reached the front of his apartment. He turned the doorknob to reveal exactly who he thought would be there, a goofy smile draped over his friend’s face, “Where are we going?”

“Just to one of my friend’s, Karl.” Nick answered.

“Chill.”

The supposed ‘Karl’ only lived a couple blocks away from Dream’s complex; about a 20 minute walk.

“So what have you been up to? It’s been a while since we talked.” Nick tried to make conversation.

“Um, I don’t know. Classes have been taking up most of my time.” Dream replied.

“Cool. Yeah, school’s been crushing me lately.” Nick noticed that Dream looked like he wanted to say something else, but he refrained from pushing further.

Their awkward silence dissipated with the heave bass coming from a big house at the end of the street they were currently on. Funny enough, that was the house they were going to. It was huge, had big white pillars, and was probably three stories tall. There were silver greek letters mounted over the front door.

Dream rolled his eyes, “Really? You brought me to a frat party?” he asked.

Nick held the door open for him, “Just shut up and have a good time.”

He tried, he really did, but as soon as a short brunet walked past, he couldn’t focus on the party. The man that passed him looked strikingly similar to one of his best friends, George. The man seemed to be carrying a pair of almost-stiletto heels. Dream closed his eyes and shook his head, taking deep breaths. When he opened them again, the man was gone; replaced by a short girl with a small frame. She was still attractive, but not as pretty as his friend he imagined her as, not even a minute ago.

_Pretty_. He thought his best friend was pretty. It wasn’t the first time he thought about how attractive George was. He had definitely acknowledged how his laugh instantly calmed the tension in any room. He definitely had thought about George underneath him, utterly wrecked. Recently, every time he touched himself, he could only think about George's face, or body, or even his voice. Waves of shame and embarrassment crashed over him when he was done, but most of the time, George was the only way he could finish.

He found himself outside again, sprinting home. He needed to get away from the crowd of irresponsible students. If he easily envisioned his _crush_ there, it could just as easily turn into something was worse than just quickening breath.

As soon as he got home, he closed the front door behind him and pressed his back against it. He slid down to the floor, lowering his face into his knees. The room filled with soft sobs. _Why does he make me feel this way?_ He thought.

After a little over an hour of pouring out his emotions, he got up to go to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. Instead of tired, he looked halfway dead. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. His face was flushed red and blotchy. His hair was sticking out every which way, unlike when he brushed before he left.

The only way he could think of releasing some of his anxiety, was through the one thing he did best; smoking. He was normally pretty good at stopping himself from getting too stoned, but tonight, he didn’t care.

At some point in his smoke sesh, he picked up his phone. He could’ve called anybody. But of course he called the one person he subconsciously didn’t want to talk to.

His phone only rang once before it picked up.

“Hello?” George’s voice echoed through the other line.

“George~” Dream started, purposely lowering his voice, “What are you doing right now?”

“Sitting in bed, listening to music.” Dream began to worry if he was bothering George.

“Oh, sorry did I interrupt you?” The blond said as he got up to roll another blunt.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. Why are you calling,”

Instead of answering, he grabbed his lighter and lit the blunt. He sat there taking a hit and waiting for George to say something.

His friend filled in the silence, “Are you smoking?”

“Maybeeee.” He giggled.

“How much have you had already?” George asked, while rustling could be heard through Dream’s phone.

“Man, I don’t even know at this point.” His eyes are bright red by now, but time couldn’t tell the exact amount he had smoked.

“Okay. So, why’d you call me when you're high?” Dream honestly didn’t know why at _that_ moment, he grabbed his phone and dialed George’s number.

“Just to hear your voice. I’m always horny when I smoke. You know that.” It just kind of slipped out. It was probably the closest he would get to the truth.

“Yes. I do,” He could hear George take a breath mid-sentence, “But you’re straight. Go and call a girl or something.”

_I’m not though. I’ve never told him I was only into girls._ “No. I want to talk to you. I _want_ you, George.” 

“You don’t.” 

A tense second passed.

Dream spoke first, letting go of any common sense he had left, “Have I ever told you how much I love you, George? How much I long for your touch?”

“No.” George sounded breathless.

“Well I do.” Dream took another hit of his blunt.

George’s voice wavered, “No.”

“Yes I do. I’m not just saying it ‘cause I’m high either.” Dream sat up from his bed, placing his head in his hands. _George is never going to believe me_ , he thought.

“You are. You aren’t thinking straight right now.”

Dream smirked at the opportunity, “When I think about you, it's never straight, Georgie.”

This time, George took longer to answer, “Stop.”

“No, George. I love you. I love you so much.” There were barely any other thoughts on his mind, other than George, of course.

“I said _stop,_ ” Dream anxiously waited for George to finish, “Please. I can’t take this tonight. I have had a shitty day already, I don’t want this right now. You're my, my . . . kryptonite, I guess.”

“Your kryptonite, huh.” Dream let out another giddy laugh.

“Yeah, sure.” 

He sighed, asking the only unanswered quetion of the night, “Do you love me too, George?”

“Please. Not now.”

“Why not? Do you not love me?”

“I already said I couldn’t right now.”

“Why not?” Dream repeated. He needed to know George’s place in their situation.

Instead of George returning Dream’s words, he spat out a quick farewell

“George, wait-“ Dream tried to get in one more word, but was cut off with the phone line disconnecting.

He tried to call back immediately. Time and time again, with no avail. Eventually he gave up, slowly drifting off to sleep.

  
  


————

  
  


He woke up in a cold sweat. Luckily he didn’t have any early classes the next day. If he did, he definitely would’ve missed them.

The first thing he did when he came to his senses was check his phone. 

He rarely forgot what he did when he smoked. He remembered every single question he asked George, and everything that George said to avoid them. He remembered how desperate he was to get a reply, so desperate that he spam called and texted. After every try of Dream reaching out to George, he only got one response:

‘Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ _sent at 3:07 am_

Almost 8 hours ago. One sentence; 8 words; Completely fucked up Dream.

  
  


————

  
  


He had George’s schedule memorized. He should’ve just gotten out of his first class. There were only a couple places he would’ve gone afterwards. Dream knows him well enough to guess that he probably barely got to class on time and didn’t have time to eat. George would definitely be hungry by this time.

He chose to try the main dining hall first. He took long strides through the campus, trying to walk fast without looking rushed. 

He arrived at almost exactly 10:30. Dream made his way around the large room, Pushing past other students. He scanned around, before his eyes caught onto someone pushed into the corner. _Bingo._

He saw that George had noise-canceling headphones on; he had to have a different approach at getting his attention. 

A smug look crossed his face as he walked over to the table he was sitting at. He slammed his hands flat against the tabletop, causing a few heads to turn. The look of pure anger and surprise on George’s face, made up for the long walk to get there.

“Hey! What the fuck man?!” George practically screamed out, before realizing who it was, “Sorry, Dream.”

Dream nodded, “Can we talk?”

“Um, fuck.” Dream’s eyes widened at the response.

_What does he mean ‘fuck’? He’s not the one who confessed his feelings over a late night call._

_This is going to be hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one seemed kinda rushed sorry
> 
> I actually started writing a completely different version of this chapter, but didn’t like it and started over into this one


	3. Pleasant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um hi again so sorry I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth for a second there. Here is a pretty long final chapter to make up for it. 
> 
> Sapnap is here yay .-. I love his sm honesty (platonicly ofc) also just realized I used ‘nick’ in the last chapter, oops sorry for the mixup (changed now)
> 
> yes there is smut in this chapter :)

As soon as Dream sat down and started talking, George regretted his decision. He could’ve said he needed to work on his paper. He could’ve just told Dream he didn’t want to talk. Hell, he could’ve even pretended to feel sick, only to pack up his stuff and move to study in the library. He could have said anything other than yes. But he didn’t. He agreed to have a mature conversation with his friend. The friend that he melted over every time his voice lowered. The friend that caused George’s heart to jump every time he called. And after every call, made him feel saddened by the loss of temptation.

“Why did you want to talk?” George began the conversation.

“After I called last night, you weren’t answering any of my calls and then you text me this,” Dream turned on his phone to show Goegre the message he sent earlier that morning, “I’m just worried about you.”

George sighed, “Do you even remember what we talked about?”

“Um not really, no.” Dream looked to the side in embarrassment. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I just had to take a shower and go to sleep,” Dream gave him an unconvinced smile, “What? I had to be up in the morning.”

“You’re always up late, George.” The mention of his name made him shudder.

“Yeah, but we had a guest speaker in Meteorology today. I couldn’t sleep through it.”

Tense silence filled their conversation.

“What are you doing, like right now?” Dream asked.

“Um, right now I’m working on a paper. The rest of my day is pretty full too. Why?” George responded.

Dream thought for a moment, “Can we get dinner tonight?”

“Oh um, sure. When and where?”

Dream smirked before answering “How about just my place, 5 o’clock?”

George contemplated, “5:30.”

“Fine, my place, 5:30.” Dream jokingly put his hand out for George to take. The brunet looked confused, before putting his out in response. Dream moved their hands up to his mouth and pressed a light kiss on the back of George’s.

George groaned, “Really? That is so cheesy.”

“You like it.”

“Ugh, no.”

————

The rest of the day crawled by for both of them; Dream only had a couple classes and needed to get his apartment ready for dinner; George had a day packed full of school. As soon as George’s last lecture was over, he rushed to pack up his stuff and ran back home. He quickly changed into something other than sweats and a hoodie. The outfit of choice being a false white turtleneck (the ones that are only around the neck and shoulders) underneath a light blue sweatshirt, which was tucked nicely into black dress pants. Stylish.

Once content with his attire, he grabbed his phone and hurried out the door. Dream’s apartment was on the opposite side of the campus, so instead of walking, he grabbed a bus. Due to it being a friday night, every seat was taken, he had to stand off to the side of the driver’s seat to even have enough room to check his phone. No new messages, but he realised if he wanted to get to Dream’s on time, the bus had to go 20 mph faster than it was. He sighed and texted Dream, ‘I’m gonna be late’.

He responded after a brief period of time, ‘That’s fine ;)’

George’s heart fluttered. Did he mean to use a semicolon? He thought to himself.

Sure enough, Dream did. Although, he was just as panicked as George was. Shit, what if he thinks I’m being too forward, Dream worried, while pacing around his living room. His apartment was definitely . . . cozy—as one expects for a college senior. Compared to the rest of his house, though, his living room was fairly sizable. He had just enough room for two small couches, but he hoped George and him would be able to share just one. He envisioned them slowly shifting closer and closer, just until his thigh was grazing George’s. Eventually they would get impatient and the two touch-starved college students would move into an embrace—getting as close as they could possibly get, relaxing in each other’s presence.

Ugh. Get out of my head, Dream whined to himself, That is never going to fucking happen, he is just coming over to talk and eat dinner. 

Shit, dinner! Dream had completely forgotten about the frozen pizza he had left in the oven. Luckily, when he pulled out the rack it was on, the crust was tinted a perfect golden brown and the smell emitting was if the pizza was homemade. He definitely would’ve made it from scratch—if he could cook a lick. But he couldn’t even make ramen without messing up the water to noodle ratio. 

Minutes pass, leaving Dream dissatisfied with his still empty apartment. Time slowed as the first knock was heard. The loneliness subsided—replaced immediately by anxiety. 

Another knock rang through the walls. It was a lot more forceful this time, causing Dream to jump unexpectedly.

Four more knocks dragged Dream out of his head and sent his feet towards the door. When he opened it, his eyes widened at the sight of the brunet. He looked George up and down, gaping at how well dressed his friend was. Even though George wasn’t in anything fancy, it was way better than the jeans and a t-shirt that Dream was wearing. 

Soon enough, George spoke, “Hello?”

Dream shoke his head after realizing he’d been staring, “Oh, sorry. Um yeah, come in.”

George giggled and walked past him, trying to hide his blush. Dream slowly shut the door and took a deep breath, trying to ready himself for the upcoming meal.

“What’d you make? It smells really good in here.” George asked as he leaned against the wall next to the small dining table.

“Oh, I made some pizza. Frozen of course. I suck at cooking.” Dream replied.

“Yeah I’m surprised you didn’t burn your kitchen down.” George retorted with a grin. Dream got closer to him, pressing the palm of his hand flat against the wall next to George’s head. The brit took a sharp inhale of air as Dream ducked his head down just enough to meet their eyes. The taller man pushed away, right as George a started flicking his attention between the blond’s eyes and his lips.

“The food is going to get cold.” Dream nearly growled.

George nodded in response as he went to stand next to Dream in the kitchen—watching him serve two pieces to each of them. Dream straightened out his back, before sliding the paper plate to where George was waiting at the end of the counter.

Dream sat down on one of the two couches and grabbed the remote, turning on the tv and waiting for his friend. After he realised George wasn’t coming over right away, he looked in the younger's direction and patted the seat next to him. George complied, but sat a little further away than Dream would’ve preferred. 

Neither George nor Dream expected the tv to be at such a high volume level. As soon as the loading screen faded, an unimportant newscaster’s voice blasted through the room. Both of them scrambled to turn it down, brushing past each other’s hands. George grabbed it first and frantically pressed the ‘volume down’ button, sighing when it was at a more desirable level. The aftermath of the incident showed just how graceful George was; pizza sauce and cheese splayed over the front of his shirt from leaning forward so far.

Dream noticed the red mess first, widening his eyes and doubling over in a wheeze. George shot him a confused look before glancing down in realisation, frowning.

“Wow George, good job,” Dream poked at George’s shirt, “You suck at this whole . . . life thing.”

George scowled, “You asshole. Do you have something I can wear instead?”

“Um,” Dream pretended to think, “No. I don’t own any other shirts.”

“You are so mean, you know that?” 

“I’m kidding, I’ll grab you something.” Dream said as he got up and started towards his room. A couple minutes later, Dream emerged holding a green t-shirt with a badly-drawn smiley face on it. He handed it to George, who held it up to himself.

“This is huge.”

“You’re just small,” George rolled his eyes, but reluctantly slipped off his stained shirt and replaced it with the clean one, “Cute.”

George was taken back by the comment, “What?”

“You’re short?” Dream replied, looking puzzled.

“No, the second part.”

“You’re cute?”

“Yeah. Did you mean it?” George darted his eyes around the room to avoid Dream’s.

Dream moved closer to George, resting his hand on George’s leg, “Yeah.”

George gasped at the touch, “Oh.”

“Uh, so the reason I wanted to talk to you,” Dream started and watched as George’s face contorted into more of a nervous expression.

“Right.” 

“I uh, I don’t really forget what I do when I’m high, like ever.” Dream moved his hand away from George to pick at his fingers.

George paused to think, “So, what you’re saying, is that you remember confessing. . . some stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what you confessed?”

“Yes.”

George sighed, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Dream smirked.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say what?” Dream kept pressing on.

“Fine,” George looked Dream dead in the eyes, “Is it true that you love me? That you want me?”

Dream got even closer, turning his whole body so he could face his friend, “It is.”

George stared back, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously, “I uh, I thought you were straight.”

“I don’t know who told you that, ‘cause I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Well you’ve only ever been with women.”

“Um no? I actually lost my virginity to a guy. I mean virginity is a social construct, but still.”

“Wait actually?” George’s eyes grow wide.

Dream flicked his eyes to George’s lips—flushed red from the constant biting. 

“Yeah.” Dream answered while he got up and took their pizzas back to the kitchen. George followed close behind and silently slipped his arms around the taller’s waist.

“Thank you for telling me.” George said as he let go of Dream.

“That I love you or that my first time was with a guy?”

“Honestly, both.”

Dream shifted the subject, “So, about me spilling my heart out over the phone—um, what do you feel towards me?”

“I mean, I was definitely . . . surprised, but I’m not mad or anything.” George stepped closer, placing his hand on Dream’s shoulder.

Dream looked disappointed, “Okay. So you actually meant it when you wouldn’t say ‘I love you’ back?”

“What?”

“Well you said you weren’t mad, but you would only really say that if you just thought of me as a friend.”

“Okay then . . . I love you.” As George spoke, Dream’s eyes widened.

“You’re just saying that out of pity.” Dream reasoned.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No.” Dream said and looked away. As he did so, George inched even closer.

“Can I make you believe me?” George practically whispered. They were so close now, their foreheads were brushing together.

Dream’s breath hitched at the dominance peaking through, “H-how?”

Instead of replying, George closed the small gap and lightly pressed their lips together, bringing Dream into a hesitant kiss. It ended as quickly as it began leaving them sitting in silence for a few seconds. 

“Y-you kissed me.” Dream stuttered.

George smirked, “I did.”

Dream initiated the next kiss, slowly cupping George’s face with one hand and running the other through his brown locks. This time when they parted, George was the flustered one, face tinted a deep crimson. Their intimidated first kisses slowly transformed into lip-biting and hair-pulling ones. Mouths advancing to necks and collarbones, leaving dark bruises in the aftermath.

Before long, Dream had George pushed up against the counter next to the sink, caressing the back of his thighs. In one swift movement, Dream propped up the smaller on the countertop and lodged his knee into George’s crotch, grinding into the stiff outline in his pants. George’s hands made their way up Dream’s back-tugging at the fabric of his t-shirt—begging for it to come off. Dream got the memo and took off his shirt, right before doing the same to George.

Dream began to apply more pressure to George’s groin, deepening their kiss with tongue. Hands clawed at skin, red marks trailing behind. Moans escaped George as Dream unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs, discarding them on the floor. The American lowered himself to be eye-level with George’s waist, hands making their way to the hem of his boxers. 

Dream looked up for confirmation, “You good, Georgie?”

“Yes, please~” George whined.

“Please what?” Dream asked while slipping off that last piece of clothing. Before he had time to answer, Dream took George into his hand and advanced at a steady pace.

George let out a sluttish moan, signaling for Dream to continue. They continued for a while, Dream touching George in a way he had never been touched before. It felt . . . intimate, almost. Driven by love and lust, Dream’s mouth made its way around George, replacing his hand that had been there prior. 

He bobbed his head at a brutally slow speed, making George whine at the prolonged indulgence. He sped up, hollowing his cheeks to take in as much of George as possible. This seemed to make George blissful—throwing his head back and muffling another loud moan. Dream let out a groan sending waves of pleasure throughout George’s body.

“Dre-dream so, so g-good. I-I’m close~”

Dream sped up even more at the praise—George rolling his eyes into his head, nearing his orgasm.

With disinclination, Dream slipped his mouth off with a pop and looked up, “You’re so pretty like this, Georgie.”

“Normally, I would love you complimenting me, but please dear god, just let me finish.” George begged as he slid closer to Dream’s face.

Dream obliged and resumed his past position, dragging his tongue around—just to see how fast he could make George come.

It took less than a minute for George to begin spilling out thick white liquid while blabbering about how good he felt.

Dream swallowed all of it—well all that he could. The portion that dribbled down his chin was swiftly lapped up by his tongue. George finally came down from his high and learned down, examining how wreaked Dream looked; lips red and swollen, hair untidy, seeming just as out of it as George.

“D-do you need me to help you?” George asked, gesturing to Dream’s crotch.

Dream blushed, “No I-I already help myself. I mean with the noises you were making, oh my god I couldn’t keep my hands away.” Dream croaked, voice still hoarse from sucking off George.

George giggled, slowly sliding off the counter and guiding Dream up from the floor. They made their way to the bathroom, Dream took a shower first, making small talk through the curtain. While George rinsed off, Dream got them both clean clothes and set a hoodie and some sweatpants by the sink for the brunet.

————

They sunk deep in the covers, exchanging light whispers, compliments, and lustful remarks. Dream had George’s back pressed tightly against his chest and his arm draped delicately over the smaller frame.

“Hey George?” Dream mumbled, barely audible to anyone that wasn’t right next to him.

George rolled over slightly, “Hmm?” 

“Did you actually mean it; that you love me?”

“Mhm. I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t.” George reached his head up and placed a light kiss on Dream’s lips.

“So, what are we then?”

“Whatever you want, Dream.”

Dream pondered for a moment, “Um, so we would be boyfriends?”

“I would.”

“Then . . . George, be my boyfriend?”

“I would love to, Clay.” Dream blushed at the use of his real name—Dream was barely a nickname anymore, even his professors rarely called him Clay. Dream brought George into a deeper kiss, before laying his head down and drifting to sleep.

————

He woke up with the sun, fairly abnormal for Dream. He rolled over, leaning into the warmth of the person next to him. He hadn’t quite woken up all the way—dreading the fact that he was up so early.

Dream decided he would get up and make his boyfriend a nice breakfast. It felt weird to him; the fact the tension between him and George had suddenly vanished and he was now able to call the sarcastic brit his.

He concluded that he would make them omelettes. Shouldn’t be too hard, He thought to himself as he pulled out the needed ingredients. He set down the pan on the stovetop and got to work, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake up the man in the room next door.

He set up his small, three-chaired, dining room table with the food and some silverware. In the process of Dream sifting through his fridge to find anything good to drink, his front door opened with a creak.

“Hey dude, you haven’t answered any of my texts in like, the past day! What the fuck happened?” Nick barged in and stomped over to where Dream was.

Dream sighed, “I really shouldn’t have given you the key to my place.”

“But you did. And now I’m here and you haven’t answered my question.” Nick remarked.

Dream continued to fill some cups with lemonade, “I guess I was just busy.”

“Busy? Too busy to text your best friend?” Nick raised his eyebrow.

“Um, yeah? You aren’t the only thing in my life, Sap.”

“Yeah, but I’m the best thing.”

“Sure.”

“Huh? Wha-“ Nick began but was cut off by Dream’s bedroom door opening.

A sleepy George—who was still wearing one of dream’s hoodies—walked out, rubbing his eyes, “You are so loud. What time is it anyways?”

Nick’s jaw dropped to the floor as looked between Dream and George. George’s eyes widened as he realised who was standing in front of him.

Nick broke the silence, “Busy, you say?”

Dream and George shot each other distraught looks, “Yup.” Dream answered for them.

“Busy fucking one of your best friends?” Sapnap cackled.

“No, Nick, that’s not what is happening.” George answered as he walked over to dream. He then lowered his voice enough for Nick not to hear him, “Do you want to tell him?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Dream whispered back, before turning to Nick.

George returned to his normal volume, “Actually, that is kinda what’s happening.”

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Nick threw his hands up in victory.

Dream brought over the cups to the table, “Sap, can you like, leave now? We were just about to eat.”

Nick smirked, “Eat what? George’s ass?”

“NICK!” Dream and George yelled in unison.

“Fine, fine, whatever. Although, I am going to tell Quack and Karl.” Nick replied as he opened the front door.

“Ugh, just get out.” Dream groaned, before stepping closer to George, slightly towering over him. They smiled as they heard the front door click shut.

“Hi.” George mumbled.

Dream cupped his face to bring their lips together, “Good morning. I made omelettes.” He replied when they separated.

George walked over to the table, “I love omelettes.”

The blond pulled him in for one last kiss, before they both sat down and began to eat. This was the one occasion George didn’t absolutely loathe Dream’s cooking. It’s not as if Dream got better at cooking, it was just that this meal had more meaning behind it.

As they were cleaning up the kitchen of the excessive amount of pans that he used, George connected his phone to one of Dreams portable speakers. He didn’t really care what he put on, so he just clicked a random playlist that he thought might be good for cleaning.

Bass drums filled the room while they progressed around the mess, casually grabbing each other and swaying to the beat. Only after the first couple of lines, did George start singing along.

“~Now it's three in the morning, and I’m trying to change your mind~”

George ran his hands up Dream’s back, stopping when he reached his shoulders.

“~Left you multiple miscalls and to my message you reply~”

Dream turned around and smiled at the pure joy his boyfriend was possessing, a Lazy grin plastered on his face. 

“~’Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’~” Line repeating a couple of times.

Dream leaned in, meeting George’s lips in the middle, letting the last line of the song ring out.

“I love you, Georgie.”

George blushed, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i finally finished, crazy. Also I have no idea what fic I want to do next if I do one. My other one that I am writing is getting tiring, sorry Idk if I will continue it—probably just make an epilogue or something


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